The dust storm rolls in

Cow pies lie dangerously

wet, slick and unseen.

Dear Friends, perhaps I’ve been loose too long.  But I’m a farmer’s daughter and this is how pie and dust fit together for me!


Ronovan’s Writes Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt #107 ‘Pie’ & ‘Dust’

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old fence

The old fence is frail

But serves nobly as a reminder

– boundaries matter.


Fences are built to keep danger away as well as to keep safety within, or they may keep danger within and provide safety without.  Either way they are important.  Lack of fences lead to much insecurity.



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Sammy, my love, we are growing old. We have now had one birthday each every year, for a mighty lot of years.  I’m glad we are still doing them together.   Sometimes now you even grunt as you roll off the couch, but you do still get up off the floor without much ritual!  Me?  I have to move whatever is on my lap, look for something to hang on to with one hand, and something to support the other as I use my arm to raise the rest of my body, all done with age appropriate moans and groans.  I say it is because my corner of the couch is too low, has nothing to do with age.  Well, the couch is old.

Thanks you, Sammy, for getting up early to pick up branches and weed piles so they could go in the trash today.  Thanks for fixing your own breakfast while I spent that extra time with Jadalyn in our morning wake up time.  Thanks for buying the groceries.  Thanks for taping some news shows while I am here at the library, so we can watch them together when I get home.  Thanks for loving us – me and our children, children’s children, and children’s children’s children.  Wow!


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Happy July 16, 2016 to all my Blogging Friends, from me right here in the Mustang Library.  I was going to do some serious reading but got bogged down with Walmart Shoppers pictures.  Result: Lost serious reading e-mail time!  Anyway I am here.  My Facebook from July in 2014 stirred my heart to thankfulness again.  So glad to be living-hampered only by crashed computer.  None of my real parts has crashed!  Anyway I decided to share what I had written on that day.  Rejoice with me!  :D  :D

“DID GOD REALLY SAY…?” scoffed the serpent to Eve’s listening ear. And how quickly she let the seed of doubt grow in her spirit. Perhaps she mentally rationalized, “Maybe I didn’t hear right; what he said might not be what he meant. I’ll give it some thought.” I am aghast to recognize the same doubt residing in me. Recently a person with medical status said to me, “You could not have had an aorta dissection. If you had, you would be dead.” He repeated the statement about three times as I told him that that was the reason I was being so thankful to the Lord. In my mind I began to think, “Did I get something all mixed up?” I sure thought that’s what the doctor said. Carl, Karen, and Verna (all first hand witnesses) said, “You certainly did have an aorta dissection.” And they all confirmed that a miracle or near-miracle had occurred. I STILL got home and pulled out my medical records. They say: “The patient was taken to the cath lab, intubated, and placed on pressors. Cardiac cath revealed an aortic dissection with severe wide-open aortic valvular insufficiency…” Under diagnosis, it says: “Type l aortic valvular dissection, severe aortic valvular insufficiency, and acute heart failure.”
In all the years I was trusting God for a miracle healing, I refused to heed those who told me that God might take someone through the medical system to prove scientifically that healing had occurred. I would never have dreamed I would check the medical papers MYSELF to confirm God’s healing to me!

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old woman

Time for growing old?

For me?  That’s a mystery.

Found in next decade.


So I had to use part of my library time with this today.  Just to show you I may be down but I’m not out.  Ronovan’s challenge use time and grow.



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Blogging Friends, a word of explanation.  My computer crashed.  I’m at the library right now so I can let you all know.  At my age, you might think I had cramps in my fingers or a muddled brain.  Nope, thank the Lord.  I’m hole – I’m joking, I’m whole.  These library computers are just great, but the library does not keep Blogger’s hours.  I can still read and do simple comments on my kindle, so I’ll be watching.  (Simple comments?  That doesn’t sound much like me, does it?)

I hope some of you have an addiction to sweet aroma and feed my ego by reading some of my archives.  That would be so nice.  But even if you don’t, I know you will want to, won’t ya?

It might be book reading time for me.  But I’ll be back.



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So here I sit.  In the doghouse, my stomach churning after the spat with my wife.  She is a hard one to figure out, a protean woman if there ever was one.  One day all is well, she is cool as a cucumber, sweet as maple syrup.  Then up pops a day like today.  I trampled through the utility room completely unprepared for the fireworks that were about to come.  And there she sat like a wallflower stiff as starch. She says in a staccato voice, “You…had… better… buy some time… out… of my sight.”  I felt like a dummy as I put on my emotional armor and tried to appear uncaring, and hard as a walnut shell as I waltzed carefully out of her sight.  “Relax,” I say to myself, “and keep your proboscis out of her reach. Scoot over, Bowser.  It’s might be a long cold night.”

Wordle #116  Use at least ten of the following words:  starch, trample, protean, walnut, strop, staccato, waltz, churn, wallflower, dummy, proboscis, fireworks



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sixty three years

Home, fortunate to be my pleasant place;

my hubby and I talk face to face.

Home, all my belongings there I stash;

got a lot of stuff, just not cash.


Home, cars can park on my one acre lawn;

afternoon naps when I yawn.

Home, food and drink and company too,

if you were near, we’d invite you.


Home, a place to have the family meet,

games and songs and plenty to eat.

Home, sixty-three years since we were wed,

tied the knot with unbreakable thread.


Introduction to Poetry, Lesson Eight subject “pleasure”  Challenge to begin (or end) each line with the same word.


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sky walker

The dazzling sun gleam

Hampered my ability

To watch the sky show

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SoCS prompt word:  Long     SoSC

How much longer will we have to wait?  How much longer before Christmas?  How long before dinner?  How long is the book I have to read?  How long does the manuscript have to be?  How long before graduation?  How long before the roast is cooked?

I had never thought of “long” as a negative word until beginning to write this post.  I can think of very few things that we like to be long?  Most of us (I think) prefer short nights, short blogs, short poems, short sermons, short trips.  We accept short attention spans – for ourselves; we want others to have long attention spans.  Obviously we want short illnesses, short wars, short arguments.  Many people want long vacations until they take one, then they are happy to arrive back home.  With few exceptions we want long life.

Remembering most of you what a short blog, I will sign off with one more thought.


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